Amato Animo Animato Animagus
by VulpesCanidae
Summary: When Harry Potter sees his godfather transform into an enormous black dog to save his life, his interest is piqued. When he hears stories that his father could do exactly the same, his attention is well and truly grabbed. And when he hears that his father and godfather attained this ability while still in school, there's nothing that can stop him.
1. Chapter 1

_**August 22nd, 1994**_

_**The Burrow **_

_**4:38 P.M.**_

Unable to help himself, Harry winced as, on the floor below them, Mrs. Weasley's thundering managed to get even louder. He, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were trudging dutifully up the stairs, doing their best to spare the twins the embarrassment of having their dressing down witnessed. Alas, no amount of distance was going to keep them from hearing – at the very least – snippets of Mrs. Weasley's rage as she shouted at them at the top of her lungs_. "-wasting your time!" "Honestly!" "-think by now you'd have buckled down-" "-can't believe you're still-"_ Harry had found the twins' prank on Dudley to be wonderfully funny, but he would have been the first to tell them not to do it if this was the response they were going to get.

Noticing his reaction, Ginny chuckled. "Yeah. 'S not the first we've heard of that this summer." Harry raised an inquisitive eyebrow at her, prompting an ever so subtle blush. She covered it quickly, tripping over her words as she continued. "We've been hearin' all sorts of things coming from their room-"

"Explosions and the like," Ron interrupted, drawing a look of ire from his sister. "Honestly thought they were trying to kill each other once or twice, but we never thought they were making things."

"Making things?" Harry echoed. "What, you mean _'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'?_ What's that about?"

Ginny sniggered slightly. "'S what they call them. All those confections of theirs. It's their product line, y'see."

"Product line? So 'Weasley's Wizard Wheezes'? That's their brand?"

"We just call 'em 'Wheezes'," Ron supplied, a crooked smile on his face. "Saves time."

"But yeah," Ginny answered his question for him. "Mum went snooping in their room a while back-"

"She was _cleaning_ their room," Hermione corrected, ever the authoritarian defender.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "She was _snooping_ in their room," the redhead reiterated. "Found all kinds of order forms and the like. We think they were planning on selling the stuff when they got back to Hogwarts."

Ron barked out a laugh. "Fat chance of that. Mum's got eagle eyes for the things now, she does."

"_Will you lot quiet down!?"_ Percy popped his head out of his door to snap at them. "Bad enough, Mum yelling at those two like an overzealous prison warden! I don't need you lot thundering up and down the stairs while I'm trying to work!"

"We aren't _thundering_," Ron rolled his eyes. "Honestly, go back to your cauldron bottoms, Perce."

Percy pursed his lips angrily and shut his door with a mighty slam.

Hermione turned baleful eyes onto Ron who looked at her askance. "Wha'?" he asked defensively. "Do _you_ wanna listen to his latest update on standardized cauldron thickness?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. _"Honestly,"_ she stressed, following close behind Ron and Harry as they entered his room. "You could stand to show a little interest in your brother's work, Ronald."

"Don't call me, Ronald," Ron snarked. "You sound like Mum."

"Think that was what she was going for," Ginny sniggered, hoisting herself up to sit atop Ron's dresser. She bounced her legs noisily against the dresser drawers, Percy's complaints about noise seemingly forgotten.

Hermione glared at her, but Harry spoke before she could. "Why are there four beds in here, Ron?"

Ron glanced at the fluffy, blanketed cots his mother had made up on his floor a little less than a month ago. He hardly noticed them anymore, he'd become so used to them. Ron shrugged. "The twins are bunking with us, on account of Bill and Charlie being in their room."

Ginny sniggered again. "Making it much harder to experiment on their products, that," she grinned mirthfully. "They tried testing some kinda potion in here a couple weeks ago-"

"He doesn't need to hear about that!" Ron snapped.

Ginny's grin widened. _"Made all his hair fall out,"_ she stage whispered to Harry, which earned her a grin. Ron groaned, running a hand down his face. He idly fingered an orange lock, as if confirming that his mane was still present and accounted for. It had taken a rapid hair growth potion to get him back to an acceptable length, something which the twins had very reluctantly agreed to pay for. That is, their father forced them to pay for it on pain of confiscating their brooms for the remainder of the summer.

"Yeah, Fred and George are right gits, what else is new?" Ron groused. "Never mind that. Oi, Harry! You heard from – OW! Bloody hell, woman!"

Hermione, who had elbowed Ron rather severely in the stomach, cut her eyes at Ginny with all the subtly of a raging bull, and Ron likewise clamped his mouth closed with all the subtlety of a charging rhinoceros. Ginny eyed the two of them, and Harry soon after, with some amount of trepidation, but seemed content to let the matter lie. It wasn't as if she didn't know that the 'Golden Trio' had secrets of their own that she was not privy too.

Harry, for his part, sent Hermione a thankful look, which she returned with a nod. There was something else there, though, in Harry's eyes. A question he could no more ask in front of Ginny than he could mention Sirius' name. It was a project he had requested his brilliant best friend take on over the summer. Something that wasn't entirely legal – by which he meant it was actively illegal – and something that Ginny would demand to be a part of at best. At worst, she would go straight to her parents, although Harry had a hard time painting Ginny as a snitch. Still, best to ere on the side of caution. He had waited all summer. He could wait just a few hours longer to ask Hermione about their oncoming extracurriculars.

* * *

_**August 22nd, 1994**_

_**The Burrow**_

_**6:17 P.M.**_

It ended up being just under two hours before Harry had a chance to bring the subject up with Hermione. The lot of the Weasleys had been roused from their sulking (Fred and George) and their rooms (Harry and co.) and their working (Percy) and brought outside to sit and eat a delicious looking meal which Mrs. Weasley had prepared. Bill and Charlie had put on a great show, jousting in the air with the tables. It had created a clatter loud enough to incite another bout of Percy's rage, but that had ended up coming just in time for Mrs. Weasley had called him down to eat just as he stuck his head out the window to scream, red faced, at his brothers.

"_And no work at the table!"_ Mrs. Weasley had scolded him harshly, a sharp look in her eye. Percy had looked as if he had wanted to argue, but very fresh memories of the dressing down the twins had gotten kept him from muttering too loudly about 'very important Ministry work'.

Now they were all seated and halfway through the meal. Bill and Ginny had joined forces to argue against Mrs. Weasley cutting Bill's hair. _"Mum, the bank doesn't care! It's the work they pay attention to."_ Percy was droning about the importance of his job and the wonder that was _Mr. Crouch_, and Mr. Weasley was once more proving how good a father he was by enduring the talk. _"A truly wonderful man, I tell you." "Yes, he's a credit to the Department."_ Just next to the Golden Trio, the twins and Charlie were discussing the past Quidditch season animatedly, the lot of them bemoaning England's abysmal performance against Transylvania. _"Three-ninety to ten!? Can you believe it!?" "Yeh, and Wales lost to Uganda, the poor blighters."_

It was Ron, always the one to ignore the fact that their meddling could be overheard, who broke the ice between the three of them again. "So, _have_ you heard from Sirius?" He had at least thought to lower his voice. Beside him, Hermione looked prepared to scold him as harshly as Mrs. Weasley had Percy, but her own curiosity saw her lean in to hear Harry's response as well.

Harry had a mouth full of potatoes just then, so he responded with an exuberant nod until he swallowed and elaborated further, "Gotten two letters from him. Huge birds, they were. Tropical, I think."

"Oh, that's nice," Hermione said, her tone very genuine. "A bit of sun would do him good after…well, you know." Her eyes scanned rapidly around the table, looking to see if anyone had heard her.

"Mum, it's not as bad as you say it is. Lots of girls like the long hair look!" Ginny cried.

They hadn't.

"Yeah, but never mind that," Harry responded, not all that eager to discuss Sirius at the moment. He'd like to think it was the public space that was making him change the subject, but he knew it was his own excitement. He peered very deliberately at Hermione. "How was your summer?"

Ron, who looked as if he'd only just remembered the assignment Harry had given Hermione at the end of the previous year, suddenly looked at their bushy haired friend with a look of palpable excitement. Hermione eyed the redhead warily, as if afraid he was going to loudly exclaim his excitement for all the table to hear. When it seemed that he was going to contain himself, Hermione said quietly, "Productive. And worrying."

"Worrying?" Harry repeated.

Hermione nodded, sending bushy hair flying as she did. She leaned in, her voice adopting a harsh whisper. "Do you know how dangerous this can be?" she hissed. "Botched transformations and mutations. Not to mention the _legal_ ramifications if we're caught."

Ron seemed unperturbed by Hermione's announcement. "Come off it, Hermione," he scoffed. "If _Scabbers_ could bloody well do it, I expect we can. Right, Harry?"

Harry made to agree with his best mate, but it was Fred's voice that cut in, saying, "And what was it Scabbers did, Ron? 'Cept sleep all day and eat more than his fill?"

"Expect that's what he wants to do, though, isn't it, Fred?" George continued, grinning. He nodded approvingly at Ron. "I dare say you'll be able to match Scabbers in those departments, Ron."

"'Specially the eating bit," Fred laughed. George joined.

Ron's face heated. "Shove off, you two!" he snapped. "It's a private conversation, isn't it?"

George gestured rudely in Ron's direction.

"_George Weasley!"_ Mrs. Weasley exclaimed furiously.

The younger of the twins gave a mighty cringe as his mother launched into another stern lecture on 'being a proper gentleman' and 'table etiquette'. The conversation once more well away from them, the Golden Trio leaned closer together again.

"Ron's right, Hermione," Harry assured him. "I mean, you brewed a successful Polyjuice in second year! Course you can get us through this one."

Hermione worried at her lower lip. "There's more _to it_ than there was to the Polyjuice," she insisted. "A lot of it is just up to chance, and if any of the steps are done wrong – not to mention you _have_ to have a mind for Transfiguration –"

"Hermione," Harry laid his hand across hers. She looked up at him, the worry very evident in her eyes. "Come on, _please_."

"Oh, alright, alright fine!" Hermione snapped. "But it's asking for trouble!"

Ron snorted. "It's us, innit? What else is new?"

* * *

_**August 23rd, 1994**_

_**The Burrow**_

_**12:36 A.M.**_

The moon was high in the sky when the three of them snuck out of their respective rooms and into the night to meet. Not much more had been discussed at the table. Hermione had told them that they needed to meet outside around midnight to discuss the next part and that they were absolutely not to be caught.

"I _don't_ want to be caught out after dark with you two. Who _knows_ what Mrs. Weasley would say?"

They had all blushed at the implication, and the matter had been dropped.

Now Harry was waiting outside under the light of the full moon on his own. He didn't know where Hermione was at the moment, but he and Ron had decided that it was best if they snuck out separately. Less chance of Percy being woken by their 'thundering'. Or Mrs. Weasley for that matter.

Harry kicked idly at the gravel rocks beneath his feet. He was in the back garden, sat beneath an extremely leafy bush so as to block the kitchen's view of him. The full moon overhead gave him plenty of light to see by. Harry thought he spied a pair of gnomes wrestling by the gate on the far side of the garden. Wait…they weren't wrestling…

"Harry," Hermione hissed him out of his thoughts suddenly. She was crouched just beside him now where she had not been before. "Where's Ron?"

Harry blushed, tearing his eyes away from the 'wrestling' gnomes. "Uh – he…"

"I'm here," the redhead said, sliding into a seat beside them on the ground. "Longest five minutes of my life, that was. I miss anything?"

Hermione shook her head. She gave a small sort of groan as she fell out of her crouch and sat fully on the ground. "I just got here. Took me a minute to find them."

"Find what?" Harry asked, fully recovered from his blushing fit. He was glad that not much color showed up underneath the moon's cool light. Ron would have had a fit with the color of his face otherwise.

Hermione held out her hands. There were three small black, rectangular boxes sitting in them. "The first ingredient," Hermione explained. Sheepishly, she continued, "I hope your mum won't mind."

"Why would she mind?" Ron asked, swiping one of the boxes from her.

Harry did likewise, reaching out to take the wooden box. Popping it open, he saw that there were four leaves held within. The leaves were small with three pointed edges, and they had been cut very close so as to remove as much of their stem as possible.

Ron plucked one out of the box and held it up, examining it in the moonlight. "What're these?"

Hermione sighed heavily. "Honestly, Ron, don't you pay _any_ attention in Herbology?"

Like Ron, Harry held one of the leaves up into the light and thought that, that was a bit harsh. He didn't recognize the little leaf either and he doubted that he would be able to even in proper light.

"They're Mandrake leaves," Hermione explained, somewhat exasperated. Then she worried at her lip again, eyeing Ron speculatively. "Your mum…_won't_ mind, will she? I mean, Mandrakes aren't – well they aren't cheap, are they?"

Ron examined the Mandrake leaf a bit more before promptly shrugging. "They're not very cheap, no," Ron conceded. "But she's hardly gonna notice a few missing leaves, is she?"

Hermione was clearly not as comfortable with Ron's response as Ron was. She continued to chew on her bottom lip as she eyed the three boxes of contraband leaves with no small amount of guilt. Harry knew Hermione well enough to know that one of her crises of conscience was coming up, so he rushed to distract her.

"Why do we need Mandrake leaves?" he asked her. If he sounded a bit dumber than usual, Hermione didn't notice. If anything, it made her launch into teacher mode all the quicker. Funny, that.

"They're the first step of the process. A Mandrake leaf," she indicated to the boxes, "a full moon," she gestured upwards at the full moon, "and a mouth."

"A mouth!?" Ron sputtered, earning panicked _'shhhhh's'_ from his friends. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Hermione twitched her nose idly, seemingly debating how she wanted to continue. "Practical's better, I suppose," she muttered. Hermione brandished her wand commandingly. "Open wide."

"Wha'!?" Ron squawked indignantly.

"Open!" Hermione commanded, and – as her wand was pointed directly at his face just now – Ron obliged. "Right, now you'll have to forgive me. This is gonna be a bit gross."

Ron did not have the time to close his mouth and ask what she meant by that. No sooner had she finished her statement than Hermione had shoved her fingers into the ginger's mouth.

"Oh, _be quiet_, Ron!" she snapped, maneuvering the tip of her wand around inside Ron's mouth. The two fingers of her left hand were holding it open, allowing her unfettered access. "Honestly, do you think I'd be doing this if I didn't have to?"

Finally, after about a minute of holding the redhead's mouth open, Hermione withdrew with a sigh. "There," she said definitively. Her mouth curled slightly as she wiped her fingers on her shirt. "Brush your teeth better, Ron."

"The bloody hell was that about!?" Ron cried.

"_Be quiet!"_ Hermione snapped. "If I go to Azkaban because you couldn't keep your bloody mouth shut –"

"Hermione!" Harry cried, reeling back. "Are you alright? You just – you just cursed!"

Hermione huffed indignantly. "Oh, hush! This is a _very_ stressful situation, Harry!"

Ron rubbed absently at his jaw. The cleaning charms Hermione had scoured the inside of his mouth with had left an odd, tingly sensation on the lower side of his face. "You're the only one who's stressed about it," he complained. "Bloody mental…"

"Whatever," Hermione rolled her eyes. She raised her wand again. "Come on, once more."

"No!" Ron cried, scooting back on the gravel. He raised his hand defensively over his mouth. "Not until you explain what you're doing!"

Hermione rolled her eyes again. "I had to make sure your mouth was clean. If the leaf is contaminated –"

"The leaf!?" Ron cut her off. "What's the bloody leaf got to do with my mouth?"

"If you would _open your mouth_," Hermione growled, "I would _show you_."

Ron shared a panicked glance with Harry who only shrugged. He had no more of an idea of what was going on than Ron did. "I mean, it's Hermione, mate," he replied weakly. "She always knows best, yeah?"

It was Hermione's turn to be grateful for the poor light as she blushed faintly. Ron, meanwhile, ran a hand down his face in exasperation. "Yeah, fine," he grumbled, opening his mouth wide.

"Right," Hermione readied her wand as she plucked one of Ron's Mandrake leaves from the box. "Stay very still, now."

Ron obliged as Hermione slowly stuck the leaf into his mouth. Harry couldn't properly see what she was doing, but after a few seconds, Hermione pulled her hands out of Ron's mouth. "What'd you do?" he asked her.

Ron smacked his lips, the movement of his cheeks implying he was moving his tongue about. "Stuck it to the roof of my mouth, I think," he said. Then he winced slightly, pressing the palm of his hand into his cheek. "Agh! That's bloody uncomfortable, that is!"

"Don't mess with it!" Hermione snapped. "It has to remain intact the whole time, or it's useless!"

"So, you _did_ stick it to the roof of his mouth?" Harry pressed. He gazed inquisitively at Ron who was still wearing a look of discomfort. "Why?"

Hermione shrugged. "I read a sticking charm made it easier long term," she replied.

"Makes what easier?" Harry asked.

"The first step of the process. Under the light of a full moon, a Mandrake leaf must be inserted into an uncontaminated mouth where it will remain."

"For how long?" Ron cried.

Hermione hesitated. Her eyes darted upward, briefly gazing at the moon. "Until…the next full moon?" she offered slowly.

"A month!?" Ron exclaimed.

"_Shhhhhh!"_ Harry and Hermione both hissed at him.

"'Shhhhhhh' yourself," Ron stuck his tongue out at them. Then he pointed aggressively at his mouth. "I have to keep this thing in my mouth for a bloody month!? How am I gonna eat!?"

"Carefully," Hermione replied distractedly. She had plucked a handheld notebook from the depths of her pajamas somewhere and was currently flipping idly through its pages. How she could read it in the dim light of the moon, Harry didn't know, but she seemed to be doing well enough. Her finger settled on a page, and she said, "Soft moods mostly – Do not damage the leaf. If it's not completely intact at the end of the cycle, you have to start all over again. And there's enough danger of _that_ already."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron asked at the same time that Harry said, "We might have to do this more than once!?"

Hermione snapped her notebook closed with audible attitude and huffed mightily. "I _told_ you a lot of this is just up to chance. We can't just brew a potion in the girl's lavatory and expect to completely alter our physiology!"

Harry ran a hand down his face, groaning. Hermione was right, of course, and he hadn't expected this to be easy. Still, it took a lot to get his bookish friend _this_ strung out. Harry remembered that it had taken her five months of taking literally every class on offer last year before she looked as stressed as she did now. But then, he supposed that taking literally every class on offer wasn't also highly illegal like this was.

"What else do we need to do?" Harry asked her as calmly as he could. He knew Ron would continue to bluster his way through every new revelation, but he figured he could ease Hermione's burden just a touch if he presented a calm front.

Hermione flipped through several pages of her notebook again, landing finally on one that looked like a bulleted list. "Several things," she said in the same distracted tone. "The potion itself isn't _that_ hard to make, but the ingredients aren't easy to come by. One of our hairs – that's not hard…the dew? Have to get that at Hogwarts –"

"_Dew?"_ Ron mouthed at Harry who shrugged in response.

"– the chrysalises we can get at Diagon," Hermione continued to mutter to herself as if she hadn't heard them. Which, to be fair, she likely hadn't. When she next spoke it was louder, to better address the boys. "This bit's gonna be the hardest – well, not the hardest, it's all quite hard. Blimey, we shouldn't be doing this…"

"Hermione," Harry gently course corrected her.

"When the next full moon comes, we need to put the leaves and all the other ingredients into pure crystal phials." Hermione ran an annoyed hand through her bushy hair, brushing stray locks out of her face. "Which, frankly, none of us have the money for."

"Bugger," Harry cursed. Pure crystal potion phials were some of the most expensive on the market, unless you were buying the ones made of gemstones – but those were only for specialty potions. "We can't just use regular phials?"

Most potions could be enhanced by use of a crystal phial – almost any of the majority of potions, in fact, could get better results from cooling within a phial of pure crystal. But it was never strictly necessary. A Draught of Living Death placed into a plain glass phial would net a patient five days of unconsciousness while one cooled in a crystal phial might net them seven.

Hermione, though, shook her head. "Won't work," she told him definitively. "The potion _requires_ a crystal phial. And…_a clear night_." She muttered the last bit, closing her notebook and hugging it to her chests as she did. Harry and Ron heard her plainly nonetheless and stared at her.

The both of them glanced up at the sky. It was…mostly clear by their usual standards, but there were plenty of clouds in the sky. They obscured large swaths of stars and drifted lazily through the sky, acting as if they were considering drifting to block their sight of the moon but weren't quite sure yet whether or not they would.

"You realize we live in England, yeah?" Ron asked her.

"And go to school in Scotland?" Harry pressed.

Hermione glared hotly at them. "_I_ am not the one demanding we do this!" she snapped crossly, cutting her eyes somewhat viciously at Harry. The Boy-Who-Lived held his hands up in surrender.

"Bloody hell," Ron muttered, rubbing at his chin and cheeks with his hand. There was a still a grimace in his eyes, even if his mouth wasn't curling unpleasantly at the moment. "Know any weather forecast spells?"

"None that go out a month," Hermione sighed.

"That was rhetorical."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him.

Harry ran a hand through his hair, exhaling as he did. "Where we gonna get crystal phials, then?"

Hermione winced, as if she had been expecting the question. Which, of course, she had. "Well, we can't buy them," she trailed off. "And no one is going to give us any…"

"Hermione Granger!" Ron's grin was infectious. "Are you advocating _stealing? Stealing_ extremely expensive potion phials from someone?" He winked obviously at Harry. "We've finally rubbed off on her, we have."

Hermione's wand whipped towards the redhead, a pale orange light flying from its tip. Ron cried out in shock more than pain as he gripped the part of his thigh where her stinging hex had hit. "I am advocating _nothing_ of the kind!" she snapped, her wand still pointed steadily at Ron's legs. "I only mean to say that…well, obviously we don't have the money to buy them. And…well, I'm sure that…_Professor Snape has more phials than he strictly needs_…" This last bit was said in a rushed whispery kind of voice so that Harry and Ron could barely understand it. But understand it, they did.

Ron snorted mightily. "Yeah. Right. Might as well just ask him if we can have them then, yeah? Oi! Calm down, you lunatic!" Ron cried as Hermione's wand tip glowed the same pale orange as before. He could just make out her narrowed eyes in the glow of spell light. A few seconds passed before Hermione cancelled the spell, and Ron let out a grateful breath. "Bloody hell, though. Stealing from Snape? Spending months with a bloody _leaf_ in our mouths? Seems an awful lot of work, mate."

Harry sighed through his nose. "Guys, my dad did this," Harry said then, his gaze far away. "Sirius did this. My mum probably knew about it, at least eventually. I want to do this. I _need_ to do this!"

Ron and Hermione shared a heavy glance and gave a heavy sigh. They had known that, of course – Harry had explained himself ad nauseum at the end of last year when he'd asked her to look into how the Animagus process worked. Still, it was a rare day that their friend actually asked for their help. Oh, they were always there for him, and he was always thankful. For Quirrel, for the Basilisk, for Sirius. They had been there, following along behind or drug painfully along by their ear – or leg, in Ron's case. But Harry so very rarely personally asked them to come along – to put themselves in danger for him. That he was doing it now…

"Yes, I know, Harry," Hermione sighed heavily. She opened her own case of Mandrake leaves, withdrew one and leveled her wand in Harry's direction. "I just wish you'd have chosen something that wasn't so uncomfortable."

"Didn't Sirius say he used to ride a motorcycle?" Ron wondered as Harry opened his mouth to Hermione's intrusion. "That'd be fun. Less work, too."

Harry closed his mouth just before Hermione began her work to wink at his best mate. "Who says I'm not thinking of that one too?"

Ron grinned.

"Honestly," Hermione clucked disapprovingly. She forced his mouth open, scouring the inside of it with a long series of deep cleaning charms. "You're dedicated to putting your life into as much danger as possible, aren't you?"

Harry grinned around Hermione's fingers.

* * *

_**August 25th**_

_**The Quidditch World Cup**_

_**10:12 A.M.**_

Two days later when the Weasley family and co. arrived at the field they would be camping in for the duration of the Quidditch World Cup, the rest of the Weasley family had begun to give the Golden Trio odd looks. Whether it was Ginny side-eyeing Hermione's sudden reluctance to talk or Mr. Weasley's quirked eyebrow whenever Harry mush-mouthed a word he was usually perfectly capable of saying or Percy's amazement at Ron's suddenly massively reduced appetite, the Weasleys had noticed something up with the three friends. They just didn't have the faintest idea what that could possibly be. Mrs. Weasley had though the three of them were arguing – a fair assumption given the multiple half-hearted glares Ron and Hermione sent Harry on a daily basis – but they were just as close as ever. Arguably, they were even closer.

Still, they were acting downright odd. Harry had a permanent, giddy sort of smile on his face that was marred only by the occasional grimace of irritation or discomfort. Ron was taking great pains to breathe only through his nose and seemed like he was trying to keep the lower half of his face as still as possible. Even Hermione was acting odder, or so Ginny reported. It used to be that Hermione's smiles were all teeth – accented greatly by her two bucked front teeth that were so ubiquitous with her. Nowadays, she barely smiled at all, and when she did, they were small, reticent things like she had run out of laughter or something. The trio mostly talked only to themselves and, even then, in hushed whispers while barely moving their lips. More than once, they'd heard Hermione snap something along the lines of, "You'll _damage_ it!" at Ron, but they didn't know what she was talking about. Alternatively, it wasn't uncommon to here Harry complaining to Hermione, saying, "You've got to teach me that breath freshening charm, 'Mione. It's _disgusting!_" What could _that_ possibly mean? Was Harry going around kissing someone!? Hermione!?

That was Ginny's primary conclusion anyway, but most of the rest of the family thought she was barking.

In fact, the only members of the family who seemed completely unfazed by the Golden Trio's new behavior were the twins and Bill, all three of which just thought it was them being weird. The twins were well used to Harry, Ron and Hermione retreating into their own friendship, and they didn't think it odd at all that they were doing it now. As for Bill, well, he remembered being fourteen. And he also remembered how nothing they did made sense even to them, let alone to the adults around them.

Still, the Trio's relative silence had made it somewhat difficult to put up the tent with both of the muggle-raised children unable to properly relay instructions to the excitable Mr. Weasley. Eventually, the two of them had just bypassed the older man and thrown it up themselves. Granted, it was mostly just Harry following Hermione's lead – he had never been camping before – but it still went a lot faster. Then Mr. Weasley had gotten hold of the matches, and the both of them gave up. There was no way they were going to manage to educate Mr. Weasley on how best to light a fire without the ability to speak properly, and neither of them wanted to see the disappointment in his eyes if they coopted his fun again.

Thankfully Charlie lost his patience not five minutes later and set the fire with a surreptitious stab of his wand. It was perfectly done to, timed just so that Mr. Weasley – in his ignorance – thought one of his dropped matches had ignited the thing. Harry, noticing this, laughed. "You were a _Gryffindor?_" he asked, somewhat incredulously.

Charlie shrugged in a self-congratulating manner. "I dated a Slytherin for about a year in fifth year," he winked at him.

"You wha'!?" Ron squawked. "You never told me that! _Ow!_"

Hermione had elbowed Ron in the side then, glaring fiercely at his mouth when he turned his angry glare onto her. Ron grimaced, but immediately quieted.

Charlie, noticing all this, chose very wisely to ignore it. "Yeah, and that's why, innit?" he said, pointing at Ron's still vaguely outraged face.

"Yeah, but their snakes, aren't they?" Ron persisted. "All slimy and slithery? How you gonna date that?"

Ginny, whose arms were laden down with a fresh bit of firewood, rolled her eyes as she walked by. "Real mature, Ron."

Charlie laughed. "Ginny's right, Ron," he smirked. An impish look alighted in his eyes. "I promise the Slytherin girls are every bit as warm as the Gryffindor ones."

"_Charlie,"_ Mr. Weasley interrupted sternly, looking down the bridge of his nose at his older son.

The dragon-handler raised his hands in surrender. "I was talking about hugs," he protested. "Get your mind out of the gutter, pops."

The twins, Bill and Ginny roared with laughter, and even Mr. Weasley's lips twitched a bit as he tried to remain stern. He shook his head and turned around, muttering quietly so that no one could hear, "Glad your mother isn't here."

"Why'd you break up with her then, Charlie?" Ron jumped back into the conversation, having completely ignored the bit about Slytherins being warm.

Hermione took the chance to tug surreptitiously on Harry's sleeve. She hoisted the empty water bucket when he turned to look at her and jerked her head in the direction of the rest of the camp. He nodded.

"Mr. Weasley," Harry called out, attracting the man's attention. He gestured to himself and Hermione. "We're gonna get some water!"

Mr. Weasley nodded. "Right, be careful then!"

When they had left the tent well behind them, and they could be sure that no one would overhear them over the noise of the crowd, Harry leaned towards Hermione and asked, "How are you doing?"

It was easier to talk amongst themselves than with anyone else, they had discovered. The three of them knew each other so well. They knew how they all spoke, and likewise how each of them responded to other. They knew how their tongues moved when they were talking to each other. They knew what they could expect to say in response to anything that might come out of someone else's mouth.

Which is why Hermione had known to expect that kind of question from her empathetic friend and had her answer ready. "Horrible!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands into the air. "Ginny keeps saying things that are wrong, but I can't correct her because I don't know how long I'm going to rant or what I'm going to say when I do and – oh Merlin, I'm doing it now!"

Harry, likewise, had known to expect just this type of answer from Hermione, and he laughed uproariously at her miniature breakdown.

Hermione huffed. "How about you?"

They found the line for the nearest watering hole just under half a mile from the Weasley tent, which was good since there was a line that looked to be about that long for it. The two of them slipped quietly into place at the back of line, the bucket held by either of their hands between them. They swung it idly, like parents do a toddler.

Harry shrugged. "Never did much talking anyway, really." He scratched at the back of his neck, smiling crookedly. "The twins keep trying to talk shop. Quidditch, you know. You can only nod and shake your head so many times before they expect you to join the conversation and, you know…converse."

It was Hermione's turn to laugh now, something she did eagerly. "It's only been two days," she bemoaned. "How are we going to do this for a month?"

"A month if we're lucky," Harry corrected her, smiling lightly. He was pleased to see that the line was moving at a fairly respectable pace.

She groaned. "What are we going to do when we get to _school?_"

Harry shrugged, still smiling. "I guess little miss know-it-all will have to settle for not answering every question the Professors throw at her for a while."

"I don't answer _every_ question."

"You try to."

"It's not my fault if no one else reads the course material."

"We do read the course material, 'Mione. We just don't read all of the course material in the first week."

"And that's my problem, why?"

Hermione placed the bucket beneath the spigot as Harry laughed, and he only finished laughing right around when the water reached the fill line. The both of them picked up the bucket in the same way they had carried it over, no longer swinging it about, although Harry did give Hermione a few minor panic attacks pretending like he would.

"You think Ron is still arguing with Charlie about the heresy of dating 'snakes'?" Harry asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Is water wet?"

* * *

_**August 26th, 1994**_

_**The Quidditch World Cup**_

_**2:17 A.M.**_

"_Aggggghh,_ I've lost my wand!" Harry cried, patting down his pockets in a vain hope of feeling the wooden stick where it had not been before.

"_Harry,"_ Hermione hissed at him, the light at the end of her wand casting a pale, sickly light across her face. "Be careful! You'll damage –"

"Sod the leaf, Hermione! I don't have my wand!"

"You leave it back in the tent?" Ron suggested.

"How should I know?" Harry snapped in response. "I said I'd bloody well lost it, didn't I?"

"Oi! Easy there, mate, remember who your friends are!" Ron groused.

"Harry," Hermione laid a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll find it, we will, but right now we have to _go._"

Harry let out a terrible groan, shaking his head violently as he did. She was right – blimey, why was Hermione _always_ bloody right? In the distance, they could still hear the screams of Mr. Robert's wife and the crying of his two little children. There was a heavy scent of smoke in the air, and the sky was still red with flame.

"Come on, let's go," Harry nodded, pulling the other two deeper into the thicket. They'd left the tree line a few hundred feet behind to better hide themselves from anyone peeking into the forest, but they were now trying to maintain a parallel line. With all the chaos of the night, it would not do to add even more to it by getting lost in the trees.

"Wands won't do us much good anyway," Ron groused, jogging beside him. "Can't risk casting too many spells with these bloody leaves in our mouth."

"Keep quiet about that," Hermione hissed. "There'll be Aurors around before too long!"

Harry snorted. "There haven't yet, have there?" He shook his head. "Poor Mr. Roberts. You see his wife?"

"Saw too much of her," Ron said somewhat queasily. "Bastards."

Hermione didn't bother correcting his language.

Sometime later they came across a group of Veela in a tight group, bound together by a circle of ardent admirers. It seemed even the threat of imminent death wasn't enough to overcome the allure of a Veela. Ron managed to shout_, "My Animagus form! It's a nundu, it is!"_ before Harry and Hermione clawed him away from the alluring witches and back into the forest. From there they were alone, stumbling through the forest as quietly and carefully as they could. The lights at the end of Ron and Hermione's wands were as dim as they could be and still be seen by. Every time they passed over his face Harry patted his pockets in the vain hope that his wand had magicked itself back into its proper place. No such luck.

"Hermione, douse your light," Ron hissed even as he did just that. Hermione did as she was told, but she kept a tight grip on her wand, levelling it by her hip. She looked like a cobra prepared to strike. Up ahead, they could see natural light – and the sickly red unnatural light of the fires – through a break in the thicket. They strained their ears but heard nothing. Not even whispers. Ron clucked his tongue, turning to his friends. "What do you think?"

Harry deliberated for a moment and then shrugged. "There might be other people there," he said. "We can ask if any of them have seen Fred, George and Ginny."

"_Or,"_ Hermione whispered harshly, "there could be lot of black robed people who enjoy tormenting innocent people there!"

Ron shook his head. "Nah, I don't think so. We'd be hearing screaming or something right? Or like…maniacal laughter?"

"They aren't comic book villains, Ron!"

"What's a comic book?"

"_Oh, never mind, let's just go!"_

Ron crept forward first, crouched low to the ground with his wand beside his eye, pointed aggressively in the direction of the clearing. He took a single step out of the thicket, still obscuring most of his body in the brush. It was a circular clearing, not much bigger than the living room of the tent had been. There was a large oak tree in the middle. Overhead, the moon's light cast the entire thing in an eerie sort of glow, particularly when combined with the red glow of the distant fires.

"Careful, Weasley," an unfortunately familiar voice drawled from across the clearing. "Someone who actually knows how to use a wand might take that as a threat."

Ron hung his head in annoyance even as the other two stepped out of the brush and into the clearing. Harry snorted lightly. "That's not you, Malfoy."

"Can we find _anywhere_ else to hide?" Hermione asked, looking distastefully at Malfoy. "I think I'd rather take my chances with the lunatics attacking camp."

From his place leaning against the sturdy girth of the oak tree, Malfoy laughed nastily. "Sure about that, Granger?" he smirked. "You?"

"What's that supposed to mean!?" Ron snapped, taking a step forward.

Malfoy rolled his eyes at him. "They're hunting Muggles, idiot." He leered at Hermione. "She's the next best thing, isn't she?"

"Whatever, Malfoy," Harry retorted. "Why aren't you out there, then? Mummy and Daddy tell you to hide in the woods while they get their sick thrills?"

Malfoy shrugged, unperturbed by Harry's goading. "If they did," he smiled, "it'd be more than your parents could tell you, eh?"

Harry went for his wand before he remembered it wasn't there. Hermione's hand latched tightly onto his arm regardless, her own muscle memory screaming at her to stop him. A less angry Harry might have had a problem with one of his friend's automatic responses to him being to stop him from assaulting someone. Just now, Harry only wished he had his wand.

"Come on, let's go," Hermione pulled on him. She sneered at Malfoy. "We'll find a rotten log to hide under, it'll be better company."

"Keep that big, bushy head down, Granger," Malfoy winked at her. "You too, Weasley. I expect your blood traitor family is next in line."

Ron's jaw tightened and his shoulders squared even as he tromped after Harry and Hermione.

"Tell me, Weasley!" Malfoy called. "That stupid sister of yours even know enough magic to keep her and her knickers on the ground!?"

"_FUCK YOU, MALFOY!"_ Ron screamed, turning and levelling his wand.

"_Expelliarmus!"_ Hermione cried, catching Ron's wand deftly in her hand. He turned to her angrily. "We have enough problems without you causing more! Let's go!"

She turned, followed quickly by Harry, and stomped into the woods amidst the howling laughter of the Malfoy heir. Ron had little choice, however wounded his pride was. He followed after them, cursing loudly as he did.

"You alright, mate?" Harry asked when he had caught up.

"No," Ron snapped churlishly. "Give me back my wand, Hermione."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to argue, but, seeing the look on his face, she passed it back over without comment. It was only when Ron opened his mouth and stuck his wand inside that she cried out a startled, _"Ron!"_

Ron said nothing. He only pulled his wand back out and fished his mandrake leaf off of his tongue where it had fallen. He discarded it angrily onto the ground. "It ripped when I was cursing Malfoy."

"Oh, Ron," Hermione sighed.


	2. Chapter 2

_**September 5th, 1994**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**5:19 A.M.**_

The week and half that followed the Quidditch World Cup was abnormally hectic. On top of the chaos that always came to the Weasley house in the last week before school started, the added issues of what had occurred at the World Cup had compounded to create a truly stressful household. Mrs. Weasley spent all day and night tittering about the kitchen while she waited for Mr. Weasley and Percy to return from the gruelingly long days at work, at which point the both of them would practically collapse. They would be awake just long enough to shovel down the hot food Mrs. Weasley would place in front of them before wandering in the vague directions of their beds and passing out. They would be gone well before anyone else in the house was awake the next morning.

The rest of the Weasley family was much the same as their mother. Bill and Charlie led impromptu Quidditch games almost daily to keep everyone's mind off of it despite the fact that Hermione vehemently denied ever wanting to play. If it wasn't Quidditch than it was studying with Bill's help as Hermione – of course – wanted to get a jump start on the fourth year curriculum and often drug Harry and Ron along with her. The Twins had toned down their antics since the Cup, but no one was sure whether or not that was in response to the newly added stress their parents were under or their complete and total fear of being told off so smartly again. Ginny kept mostly to herself, content as always to be the one Weasley that was well prepared ahead of time for the departure to Hogwarts. She had, had her stuff packed since the day after the Cup, and she was taking a lot of joy in watching the days tick by without any of her brothers doing likewise.

As for the Golden Trio themselves, well things had settled into a new sort of routine. It skewed one way or the other depending on the day. Either it was Harry and Hermione dealing with a surly Ron who was quite miffed at himself and at Malfoy for having damaged his leaf, or it was Ron and Harry being eternally grateful that the Mandrake leaf in her mouth was limiting Hermione's ranting abilities. It had looked as if she was going to take up some kind of revolutionary arms over Mr. Crouch's mistreatment of his elf before Harry had aggressively pointed at his own mouth in reminder. The following days of quiet had been met with much thanks from both Harry and Ron.

Then had come September 1st and the Hogwarts Express and Hogwarts itself where they had heard the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, something they were all excited about. That two sister schools would be boarding at Hogwarts in just under two months had sent Hermione into an ecstatic frenzy to the point that she had even got over her surliness at the horrible thunderstorm that was plaguing the school that night. _"You'll understand later,"_ she had groused. Classes had hit the ground running – particularly Potions and Transfiguration, both of which were trying to get them prepared for the grueling O.W.L.s they would take next year. Of course, the most interesting by far was Professor Moody's Defense class whatever Hermione might have to say to the contrary. Granted, Neville might also have something to say about the quality of the class, but Harry and Ron thought it was right cool.

Still, the prevailing issue in the Trio's minds – even in Ron's unfortunately stalled case – were the Mandrake leaves affixed to the roof of two of their mouth's. The next full moon was still three weeks away, but the work was far from done. Hermione had submitted an owl order two days ago with Hedwig for the chrysalises of some kind of moth – evidently a necessary part of the potion – but there were still two major components that would require some legwork on all three of their parts. Ron had tried to skive off of it, citing his inability to complete the process with them upon the next full moon, but Hermione had cut him off at the knees by assuring him she would offer him no assistance when it was his turn if he dared to attempt that.

Today, Hermione would be sneaking into Snape's office with the Invisibility Cloak and the Marauder's Map to swipe three crystal phials from his personal store. Assuming she wasn't caught and expelled, that would be the end of her task. Harry and Ron had the less enviable – but arguably easier – task of trouncing into the Forbidden Forest in search of a particular ingredient that would likely take them hours to find. The final missing ingredient of their potion was fresh dew from grass that had 'not been touched by sunlight or human feet for a period of seven days'. The lack of sunlight meant they would have to find a patch of grass obscured by foliage, but the lack of human feet would be harder. Even in Hogwarts' supposedly 'forbidden' Forest, both Harry and Ron knew that there were plenty of students who ventured into the woods for this reason or that. Thus, they had quite a walk ahead of them.

Ron's held titled backwards, his eyes tracking the swirling clouds overhead as he walked backwards towards the Forbidden Forest alongside Harry. They maintained a steady pace despite Ron's distraction, but Harry was still eager for them to enter the Forest and get out of sight. His historically blatant disregard for the Forest's rules aside, it was still forbidden, and he was fairly certain Hermione would do something unpleasant if he and Ron weren't able to gather the necessary ingredients because they got caught.

Which was fair. Given what her side of things was today, Harry could understand her desire for everything to go _just_ right.

"I don't know, mate," Ron was saying, his head still loaded back like a pez dispenser as he gazed up at the sky. "Not sure it's gonna work out for you two."

Harry followed Ron's eyes, looking up himself to stare at the miasma of gray and rolled his eyes. It wasn't that he didn't understand Ron's position – losing his leaf had been a great blow to the ginger's morale – but his blatant attempts to discourage Harry and Hermione from continuing the experiment just so they could all be on the same track again were getting old. Harry grabbed a firm hold on the shoulder of his robes and shoved him unceremoniously in the direction of the Forest.

"The full moon's three weeks away."

"Yeah, but this is England, innit?"

"Something that didn't bother you when we started."

Ron squared his shoulders and stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robes. "It did," he complained churlishly. He muttered, "Just didn't want to be the odd one out, 's all."

Harry stopped to raise an eyebrow at him. "You mean like you are now?"

Ron met his gaze. "That's a bit rude," he said blankly.

Harry rolled his eyes. They had come to the edge of the Forest now. Peeking in, Harry fought back a rolling wave of nerves. The Forest was always somewhat eerie and almost always unnerving, but it was especially so with gray clouds overhead and an all-important mission that would carry them miles into the trees at their backs. "Come on," Harry fished his wand out. Harry remembered all too well the types of things that wandered in between the roots of the trees of this forest.

Ron sighed mightily, pulling out his own wand as he did. "If we see another bloody Acromantula, I'm gonna kill you, Harry."

"If we see another bloody Acromantula, Ron," Harry replied glibly, "I hope you do."

The two stepped into the Forest.

* * *

_**September 5th, 1994**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**6:03 A.M.**_

Hermione pulled Harry's invisibility cloak tighter around herself and checked the Marauder's Map for what must have been the eighth time since she'd entered the hall. Her wand hand shook lightly as she leveled the lowest powered Lumos she could manage at the old parchment. She didn't know how the cloak handled light being cast underneath it, but she didn't want to risk it. All the sneaking around with Harry and Ron had never gotten her completely used to such blatant rule breaking, particularly not when it put her entire academic career at risk.

Shivering lightly in the cool dungeon air, Hermione trained her eyes on the Great Hall. It was one of the only remotely legible areas on the Map at the moment. At this time of day – particularly on a Saturday – the Map was barely readable. The entire student body was bunched into four locations, making for an unreadable mishash of names that couldn't hope to be comprehended. The Great Hall, however, was currently housing most of the staff and a grand total of nine students, all of them Ravenclaws. Hermione disregarded all of those names. She was only interested in one of them.

She had been sitting outside his office all morning, shivering against the cold. She'd gotten here well before the sun had risen ahead of any and every go-getting Ravenclaw in the school. Only three teachers had been awake at that hour, and the only reason two other students were similarly awake was because Hermione had drug Harry and Ron out of bed herself and kicked them outside into the Forbidden Forest. If she was going to risk her entire future, they could very well get themselves out of bed to find a bit of dew.

Approximately eight minutes ago – she had timed it – her target had left his office and wandered in the direction of the Great Hall to breakfast as he always did. Hermione would know. She'd been observing his early morning routine on the Map since their first morning back at Hogwarts. Professor Snape was intimidating, vicious, mean-spirited man who she never wanted to get on the outright bad side of, but he was, nonetheless, a creature of habit the same as anyone else. If his pattern held true today – and she would certainly kill Harry and Ron if it didn't – he would remain in the Great Hall until roughly six forty-five in the morning, after which he would return to his offices to do…something until classes began at eight. Hermione didn't know what the part of his routine was when he was back behind the confines of his locked office door, and she didn't particularly care. It had little bearing on her task here this morning.

When she had made sure – for the ninth time – that Professor Snape was in his usual spot at the end of the staff table, Hermione took a deep breath and stowed the map in her back pocket. She cast a quick, cursory glance around – as if worried some deranged Prefect was doing rounds in the dungeon at six thirty in the morning for the specific reason of looking for people trying to break into Professor Snape's office – and then jabbed her wand quickly at the door.

"_Alohomora!"_

The door's latch '_clicked'_, and it lightly eased open with a barely audible '_creaaaak'_. Hermione winced as if it had exploded.

She moved forward quickly, stumbling over the cloak as she did. She was no longer the tiny eleven-year-old she had been when she, Ron and Harry had snuck through the halls of Hogwarts underneath the cloak's flaps, but she was still the smallest of the three of them. It drug along the ground around her as she stumbled through the doorway. Inside, she turned around and shut the door as quietly as she could manage – quite a feat given that every muscle in her body was screaming at her to slam it closed as a way to release her jittery nerves. It would not do for the slamming of a door to echo throughout the dungeons and draw attention her way.

Inside, Hermione pulled back the hood of the cloak, banishing the effect of invisibility as she did. It had been all well and good to drape it over herself like a blanket when she was younger, but she was quite content to wear it as it was meant to be worn today. Now it just looked like a soft cloak of rich burgundy. She glanced around quickly.

Hermione had never been in Professor Snape's office before, having never infuriated him enough to necessitate a private visit nor had enough courage to seek him out to ask a question about any of his assignments. And _that_ was a genuine shame since she had, had _plenty_ of questions about his assignments over the years. Now that she was finally here where she had never been before, Hermione allowed her curiosity to override her sense of urgency for just a moment.

For Professor Snape, it was actually quite warmly decorated, she decided. There was a fireplace – the embers of which were dying down from their morning roar – on the far right wall and a rug and two comfortable looking recliners were arrayed around it. Hermione took a moment to wonder at what type of people Professor Snape entertained down here before moving on. Alone the walls on either side of the fire place were bookshelves, lined wall to wall with tomes of all shapes and sizes. A cursory glance of their titles revealed that they were, one and all, about the subtle art of potion brewing. On the far side of the room was a desk, upon which sat a stack of freshly graded papers beside a – much larger – stack of papers that were yet to be graded. Hermione spied the freshly written 'P' on the top of Vincent Crabbe's latest assignment. She was surprised that Professor Snape evidently _was_ capable of failing his Slytherins. On the left side of the room was a table with three cauldrons on it, the middle of which had a deep blue potion in it which was simmering softly. It bubbled and popped from the persistent warmth of the flames underneath it.

And there, on the far wall behind Professor Snape's desk, there was a cabinet of potion phials. Her curiosity sated well enough, Hermione bounded across the room and fingered the delicate lock that kept the cabinet closed. Behind the glass she could spy rows and rows of phials of all different kinds. There were far more within the cabinet than its outward size would suggest. Magic, Hermione shrugged.

A flicking of her wand and a muttered, _"Alohamora,"_ and the cabinet was opened. Hermione ran her hands over glass phials and diamond phials and ruby phials and quartz phials and emerald phials and even obsidian phials which she _knew_ could only be used in the makings or enhancements of some of the world's deadliest poisons. Hermione put that thought away, but she was sure to log the information. One never knew when Harry would well and truly infuriate Professor Snape past the point of rational thought after all. She'd have to start carrying a bezoar in her back pocket. There, though, on the top row, Hermione found her prize. A long series of crystal phials – too many to count at a glance. Hermione wrapped her hand around the delicate necks of three of them and stuffed them quickly – but gently – into her bag.

Quick like a whip, the door to the Professor's cabinet was closed and the lock reapplied. She checked her surroundings. There was no other indication of her presence in the room for him to find. She would be like a ghost, she thought happily. Professor Snape would never know she was here, even if he did notice the missing three phials from his collection. As disinterested in rule breaking as she was, Hermione could always take pride in a job well done.

Hermione made to raise the hood of her cloak again but stopped suddenly to fish the Marauder's Map out of her back pocket instead. Even the most unobservant of students would notice a door opening and closing of its own accord for no reason, she thought. Best to make sure the hallway was empty before exiting.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," she intoned dutifully, her wand tip pressed to parchment. A few seconds later, Hermione very nearly dropped the map in her haste to stuff it quickly into her back pocket.

Panicking, her hands gripped the fabric of the cloak's hood, but she thought better of it. There were too many risks involved with _that_. Hermione took a deep breath…

…and the door opened.

Professor Snape froze in the middle of a doorway, registering the closest thing to shock Hermione had ever seen on his face. That is to say, his eyes widened fractionally, and he was not currently sneering. "Ms. Granger." There was the sneer. "May I ask _what_ you are doing here?"

There was an edge to his voice, and Hermione knew her next words would determine whether or not she spent the next month in detention. Something she was not at all prepared to forgive Harry for if it came to pass.

"Professor Snape," she smiled nervously, putting on her best 'breathy, nervous student' voice. Something that was not hard seeing as how she was both out of breath and very nervous. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd be here and – well, you see Professor McGonagall just lets us walk into her office if she needs us…and, well then you weren't here and I thought it'd be very rude to have just walked in unannounced and then walked out of your office without you even knowing I was in here. But then, I suppose it was rather rude to be here in the first place…"

"_Spit it out girl,"_ the greasy-haired Professor snapped through gritted teeth.

Hermione gulped audibly. Her hand fished blindly in her bag, the cool touch of the crystal phials making her heart jump, until they gripped a loose sheet of parchment which she pulled out and extended towards the Professor.

"I had a question regarding the details of your assignment on King's Blood." These words all spilled from her mouth in a single breath.

Professor Snape gazed at her for a long moment…and then sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. "And this could not have waited until _after_ the ungodly hour of seven in the morning?"

"The early bird gets the worm, Professor," she replied meekly.

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, slammed the door behind him and walked forward towards his desk, grabbing Hermione's parchment from her extended hand as he did. Her back to the Professor, Hermione breathed a shaky sigh of relief that she hoped came off as her genuine fear of disappointing authority figures. Had she gotten away with it? She hoped she had.

Hermione swallowed again. Well, it wasn't all bad.

She _had_, had some questions about the King's Blood potion.

* * *

_**September 5th, 1994**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**7:27 A.M.**_

"Well," Harry said delicately, trailing his eyes across his friend's face, "at least we haven't run into any Acromantulas."

"Shut up, Harry," Ron snapped. He was on the ground, sat upon a wide root with his back against an impossibly wide tree. With a single finger he poked repeatedly at a wide gash across his cheek which was bleeding quite profusely, wincing as he did. A few minutes ago, his foot had hooked a root and he had gone sprawling, cutting his cheek on a jagged bit of rock. "What am I gonna tell Madame Pomfrey?"

Harry shrugged, offering Ron his hand. He took it, and Harry hauled him back to his feet. "Tell her Malfoy did it."

Ron stopped prodding his cheek for a moment. "Yeah, that'll work," he decided. "Maybe the git'll lose points."

"Or get detention," Harry smirked.

"Or get expelled," Ron grinned.

They both shared a laugh at the absurdity of _that_ happening.

"How far in do you think we are?" Ron asked looking around. They didn't know where the Forbidden Forest ended, but it had shown no sign of relenting so far. They had passed through a dozen different types of trees along the way. Tall skinny ones that numbered in the hundreds, short stout ones that were arrayed in perfect lines and even squat, fat little trees that barely reached their knees sometimes. Just now they were surrounded by trees as big around as Gryffindor Tower and seemingly half as high. There were a dozen or two of them that they could see, arrayed dozens of feet away from each other. Up above them, they created an impressive canopy, casting the ground around them in an eerie, gray sort of light. There had been grass here or there, but never anywhere that they could be absolutely certain had not been touched by light. Harry and Ron continued to console themselves that they were, at the very least, well past the point that any human feet would have reasonably been around.

Harry raised his wand. _"Tempus,"_ he muttered. Then he shook the ghostly numbers that appeared away. "We've been walking for two hours. A good distance, I'd wager."

Ron groaned and ran a hand down his face only to then hiss in pain as his palm drug against the gash on his cheek. "Ugh, that means it's two hours back."

"At least," Harry sighed.

Ron groaned again.

No more was said, and the two of them trudged forward. At periodic intervals, one of them would stop to slash a wide gash into a tree with a powerful cutting charm. There were hundreds of trees marked just like that now, marking their way back to the school. They had attempted to keep as straight a line as possible along the way, but the both of them knew how confusing an endless forest could be directionally, and so they had prepared a backup plan.

As they walked, they talked, having little else to do. They discussed the Quidditch World Cup and how wicked it had been to see professional players in action. It had really put the skills of the Hogwarts teams – however talented they were – into perspective. Then they had discussed the attacks on the camp after the cup, and how right Mad-Eye was to be teaching them what he was. Neville's behavior after Mad-Eye's 'Unforgiveable Class' – as it had been christened by the student body – was especially weird to the two of them. The boy was always jittery and nervous, but he'd been downright catatonic by the end of it, and he'd seemed more willing to have tea with Professor Snape than to sit alone with Mad-Eye in his office afterwards. They wondered how Hermione was getting on for a moment before mutually deciding that she'd likely already been done for an hour or more and was impatiently waiting on their return. And, of course, they talked about girls.

"It's Susan Bones," Ron said definitively, his mouth full of a ham sandwich he'd packed into his pocket the previous night. "It's gotta be."

Harry shook his head. "Susan's alright, but her face…I don't know, it's disproportioned, you know?"

Ron glanced at him sideways. "You actually look at her _face?_"

"I – There's more to – I mean…sometimes!" Harry sputtered wildly, blushing. Ron crowed with laughter causing Harry's blush to deepen further. He slugged his friend in the shoulder. "You're lucky Hermione isn't here."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione," he scoffed. "Girl needs to loosen up, she does. She'd be in the runnin' if she wasn't so…_Hermione_."

"Oi, don't be rude," Harry scolded him.

"What?" Ron smirked at him. "Someone got a crush?"

Harry blushed again. "Don't be ridiculous," he muttered. "It's Hermione."

"_Exactly!"_

Harry shoved him. "I don't mean it like that!" he insisted. "She's like my sister!"

"Yeah," Ron nodded sagely. "And it just so happens that your 'like a sister's' got buck teeth and hair out to here?"

Harry's hand shot out to tighten around Ron's shirt, stopping him dead in his tracks.

Ron stumbled lightly, his hands flying up to latch onto Harry's suddenly iron grip. _"Oi!"_ he protested. "I was only joking! Calm down, you lunatic!"

"Ron, look!" Harry cried, pointing with his free hand.

Ron looked.

There before them was a wide clearing of healthy, green grass overshadowed by nine of the enormously wide trees they'd been walking through. Overhead, their canopies wove together, forming an unbroken barrier of leafy green. Harry leaned down to spy closely at the nearest blade of grass. Still wet with the morning dew, if only just.

"Another hour and we'd have missed this," he commented. He glanced sideways up at Ron. "And _you_ wanted to sleep in."

Ron straightened his jacket. "Twice in two weeks I've had to get up before five in the morning," he muttered. "It's torture, it is."

"Yeah well," Harry said, standing up, "should be worth it. You got the phials ready?"

Ron fished around in his bag a moment before he pulled out six regular glass phials in two hands. Hermione had been vague about exactly how much of the dew they were going to need, so Harry and Ron had decided to air on the safe side of things and overstock.

"You sure you're gonna be able to do this?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

Harry nodded firmly, withdrawing his wand. "I've been practicing all week. I think I got it."

"You think?"

"Shut up. Get the phials ready. And…sorry if I drench you."

Ron sighed heavily, having expected that somewhere in the back of his head. He carefully set three of the phials down before unstoppering the other three and holding them steady in his hand, the necks pointing up.

Harry took a deep breath. _"Aguamovere,"_ he intoned, swishing his wand in a wide arc. Unsteadily, as if it wasn't certain what it was supposed to, the water lifted off of the grass, following the arc Harry had created with his wand. It trailed upwards, following Harry's direction as he swirled and swirled and swirled it into a moving, spherical mass of water thereabouts the size of a quaffle.

"Carefully," Ron muttered slowly, watching the water with wary eyes.

"That's not helping," Harry snapped. His left hand was gripped tighly around his right wrist, holding his wand as steady as possible. "Get ready."

Slowly, Harry pulled his wand arm back, beckoning the floating ball of water with it. It moved through the air like molasses, slowly and hesitantly, shedding droplets of water as it went. Finally, it came to hover over Ron who looked up at warily.

"Go on then," Harry muttered, strained. Sweat was beading on his brow. He had never held a spell like this for so long. Come to think of it, he had never held a spell at all. Ron carefully raised up the three phials until the tops of their necks were an inch within the ball of water. Then, Harry said, "Sorry about this," and released the spell.

Ron gasped loudly but held the phials steady as the water cascaded over him like a waterfall, drenching him most of his upper body. His eyes completely covered by his hair, Ron smacked his lips. "We get it?"

Harry swallowed and breathed a shaky sigh and he walked forward to peer at the phials, still head steadily upright in Ron's hands. Two of them had been filled all the way to the neck and the third had been filled almost three quarters of the way. It wasn't perfect, but it was perfectly serviceable.

"Yeah," he muttered, taking the phials from him so that Ron could correct his sight. Within a few moments, the phials were stoppered and had been stowed carefully within Ron's bag. The phials themselves had each been placed within their own canvas bag, all of which were likewise stuffed within an additional canvas bag within Ron's own bookbag. Hermione had been very clear that if any sunlight touched the dew at _any_ time, it would be useless as a potion ingredient.

"Alright," Harry sighed, wiping his forehead. "Once more."

Ron sighed.

* * *

_**September 5th, 1994**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**10:57 A.M.**_

It was a testament to teenage boys' stomachs that even after six hours of trekking through rough forest, Harry and Ron still detoured to the Great Hall in search food rather than their beds. At the Gryffindor Table, they found Hermione waiting. She was nibbling idly on a piece of buttered toast which Ron promptly swiped from her hand and reading a book with a title that neither of the boys could translate.

"Hey!" she protested, wrenching her eyes away from the page.

Ron made an unpleasant noise at her with a mouth full of food and set about making himself a plate of his own toast. Harry sat down beside him and reached somewhat stupidly for the eggs. There weren't any over-mediums like he liked, but he would settle for good old fashioned scrambled in their place.

Hermione looked over the two of them. Their eyes were drooping, and their hands weren't quite doing exactly what they were supposed to. Where he went to grab the butter, Ron missed and stabbed at it with two fingers. Where he went to pour a glass of pumpkin juice, Harry misjudged the distance and knocked over the pitcher.

"You two are exhausted," she commented idly.

Ron leaned his face hard into the flat of his hand, closing his eyes with a look of palpable relief. The toast on his plate went untouched.

"Extremely," Harry commented dryly, shoveling a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

"Did you get it?" Hermione pressed, lowering her voice to a whisper and looking furtively around.

Ron, his eyes still closed, raised his bag high above his head and then let it fall back on to the bench beside him.

"If those don't work," Harry indicated to Ron's bag with his fork, "_you're_ going into the Forest."

Hermione stared blankly at Ron, not hearing him. "How did you get that cut on your face?"

Ron's face slipped off of his hand and collided noisily with his buttered toast.

* * *

_**September 19th, 1994**_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**4:19 P.M.**_

Hermione slammed her books down onto the table loud enough to make Ron jump. Cursing lightly, the redhead quickly corrected his misplaced chess pieces. It was just him versus the pieces – he hadn't found anyone willing to play – and he was actually losing rather badly. He'd had these pieces so long that they were fairly used to his style of play. Sometimes they got one over on him. His pieces back in their proper place, Ron looked up. Hermione was sat across from him now. Her hands had a death grip on the book she'd slammed into the table, and her hair was even wilder than usual. She looked positively harassed.

"Did you run here?" he narrowed his eyes at her.

"Where's Harry?" Hermione asked him as he hadn't spoken.

Ron shrugged, gesturing vaguely at the stairs. "Writing his third letter to Sirius," he had the good sense to lower his voice at that. "Trying to convince him to stay wherever he was before Harry went and blabbed about his scar."

It was then that Ron realized that Hermione truly was in a wrong way for she made no immediate mention of how 'right and proper' it had been for Harry to tell his godfather about his scar hurting. Ron looked up rather dramatically at his friend and was just about to ask after her health when she continued.

"I think McGonagall knows," she hissed.

Ron blinked twice. "Eh?" he asked dumbly. "How could she know. It's not as if she reads our mail. She doesn't, does she?" An embarrassing request to his mother weeks earlier for underwear he'd forgotten to pack flashed through Ron's mind.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, tilting her head slightly. Then she walloped him on the shoulder with her – really very thick – book. "Not _that_ you idiot!" she snapped. She opened her mouth and pointed at it. "This!"

"_Wha'!?"_ Ron squawked, rubbing at his suddenly throbbing shoulder. Hermione never pulled her punches. "How could she know about that? What, did she say something?"

Ron's voice had fallen into a harsh whisper as he spoke. Hermione mirrored his tone. "She mentioned my breath."

Ron blinked twice again. "What, are you not brushing your teeth regularly?"

_THWAP!_

"Bloody hell, woman!" Ron winced. Hermione had hit him again.

"My breath smells like _Mandrake leaf,_ Ron!" she hissed at him.

Still rubbing his shoulder, Ron groused, "Well, who the hell knows what Mandrake leaves smell like?"

Hermione stared at him for a long moment, and Ron momentarily feared that she was going to hit him again. Instead, she set her book down on the table and began to tick off her fingers one by one. "Potion masters, Herbologists, Apothecaries," with every word, she touched the tip of her finger to a finger on the opposite hand and folded that finger into her palm. "Seventh Year apprentices in any of those fields, Alchemists, the occasional wand smith and _bloody_ _Animguses!_"

Ron sat silent for a moment. "I thought it was Animagi?"

_THWAP!_

"_Ow!"_

"Hermione," Harry called out to them. They both turned to see him standing at the bottom of the stairs. He was bundled up tightly in a Gryffindor scarf that covered all of his neck and most of the lower half of his face. In his hands, he was clutching a thin envelope, within which surely lied his most recent letter to Sirius. "Stop abusing Ron."

"Harry!" Hermione cried. "Professor McGonagall! She –"

"I know," Harry interrupted her. "I heard."

"Well, what are we going to –"

"Hermione," Harry once more cut her off, this time going so far as to raise his hands in a placating gesture. "All she did was mention your breath. So, the most she's got is suspicions. The only way to prove what we're doing is if she opens our mouths and peers inside, and she's not liable to do that now is she?"

"You have met McGonagall, haven't you, mate?" Ron said dryly.

Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face ignoring Hermione's typical call of _"Professor McGonagall."_ "Yeah, I have," he said. "And she can't rat us out on circumstantial evidence. Or rather, she won't."

"Harry," Hermione said gently. "She was a teacher here when your father and Sirius underwent the process and she's done it. She knows what to look for."

"And Draco Malfoy is a blood purist git whose father turned blood purity into a murderous profession," Harry countered. "But that doesn't mean we get to throw Malfoy in Azkaban for what his father did. Innocent until proven guilty."

"Unfortunately," Ron muttered. The other two looked at him askance. "I meant about Malfoy!"

There was a pause. "Right," Harry responded slowly. "Besides, with any luck this won't be a problem in a few days. The full moon is almost here. Anyway, I've got a letter to mail." He raised said letter gesturingly.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione bemoaned. "I wish you'd stop sending those. It was the _right_ thing to tell Sirius."

Harry didn't hear her or at least pretended like he hadn't. He kept a steady pace until he disappeared out of the portrait hole in the direction of the Owlery. For his part, Ron settled back into his chess game. Hermione had been calmed down, McGonagall didn't have enough proof to work on and everything was going to be fine.

* * *

_**September 25th, 1994 **_

_**Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry**_

_**12:19 A.M.**_

Harry looked up at the cloudy sky with angry eyes. The gray miasmic clouds had set in early that morning, and for as much as Harry and Hermione had exercised their will at it, the clouds had not moved. Now, staring up at the sky, Harry could not make out a single pinprick of starlight, and he certainly couldn't make out the glow of the moon.

"Bugger," he cursed.

Idly, he stabbed his wand into the roof of his mouth, awkwardly muttering, _"Finite,"_ as he did. He felt the annoying, scratchy little leaf fall onto his tongue, and he quickly reached in and plucked it out. Smacking his lips, he turned around to face his two friends. Hermione was cross legged on the ground, leaning up against the far wall with her face in her hands. A low, continuous groan was spilling from her lips. Ron was leaned up silently against one of the Astronomy Tower's pillars, fighting to keep a self-satisfied smile off of his face.

"Not even gonna get a day off," Harry complained, rubbing at his jaw. "I haven't tasted anything but _leaf_ for two weeks."

"Dinner was amazing tonight," Ron told him impishly.

Hermione looked at him evilly, her hand straying towards her wand.

"Don't," Harry commanded, looking at her sternly. "You'll sooner pitch him off the tower."

"Who says that wasn't the plan?" Hermione groused. Still, when she pulled her wand, she didn't level it at Ron. Instead she did as Harry had, cancelling the sticking charm she'd applied to the roof of her mouth and pulling her own, saliva coated leaf out.

Harry joined her on the floor, heaving his own sigh as he thumped his head – rather more painfully than he had intended – on the wall behind him. "Well?" he addressed his friend.

Hermione shrugged mightily, flicking her mandrake leaf onto the floor irreverently. "Restart the process," she told him resignedly. Idly, she fished in her bag for a moment before withdrawing the black, rectangular boxes she'd first presented to them a month ago. "That's why I took extra leaves."

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose and fought back a groan. This _was_ his idea, after all. He was the one subjecting his friends to having leaves in their mouth and barely being able to talk and not at all being able to enjoy most foods. He, himself did not have the luxury of being annoyed at the situation. Still, looking up at the cloudy sky, Harry felt properly annoyed. Tonight was meant to be _the night._ He'd been looking forward to it for the past week – well, the past month really, but his excitement had hit a crescendo seven days ago – and the weather had even looked good too! It hadn't been until this very morning that the clouds had moved in. As if God was teasing him.

Harry noted idly that Hermione was pressing his box into his hands. By mutual agreement, the three of them had agreed to split up the 'paraphernalia' – as Hermione liked to refer to it – between themselves to lessen the chances of being caught. Hermione was keeping her hands on the leaves and the phials she had stolen from Snape. Ron was in possession of the dew he and Harry had liberated from the forest. Harry, himself had been passed the dead husks of several moths – the ingredient that Hermione had ordered from Diagon nearly a month ago.

Harry flipped the lid of his box open and closed several times. A thought occurred to him. "The dew," he said slowly, turning to Hermione. "It won't like…expire, will it?"

Hermione shook her head. "It shouldn't," she assured him. Glancing sideways at Ron, she said, "So long as it hasn't seen any sunlight, anyway."

Ron raised his hands in surrender. "It's been double bagged in my trunk until tonight," he crossed his heart. Currently, the phials of dew were double bagged in Ron's own bookbag at his feet. None of them had been particularly hopeful that the potion would be made tonight – particularly not Ron who was still hoping they'd be stalled enough for him to join them on time – but they had prepared for the best nonetheless.

Hermione nodded. "Should be fine then. We just have another month of…this." She glared at the leaf in between her fingers for a moment and then shook herself. "Come on, Ron, do me."

"_Oi!"_ Harry cried, tongue in cheek. "Not while I'm in the room."

Hermione blushed a bright crimson, and Ron wasn't far behind her. _"Harry!"_ Hermione hissed at the same time that Ron complained, "Come on, mate."

Harry only laughed. "Go on then, Ron," Harry nodded in Hermione's direction. "Do her."

Hermione glowered at him even as Ron crouched down level with the two of them and directed his wand into her open mouth. She did not stop glaring even when Ron had finished. Roughly five minutes later, all three of them had, had their mouths once more scoured with cleaning charms and sticking charms applied to the leaves on the rooves of their mouth.

All three of them smacked their lips uncomfortably for a moment, lightly probing the rooves of their mouth with their tongues. They gazed up at the moon petulantly, excited and irritated all at once. None of them wanted to endure another month – at least – of the mandrake leaves, but they did want to be Animaguses. And they had convinced themselves that it would be worth it in the end.

"Ron, you _will_ keep control of your temper this time," Hermione ordered waspishly after they had packed up and made towards the door.

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, shrugging the strap of his backpack farther up his shoulder. Harry drug a hand down his face, groaning as Hermione launched into a whispered rant about the delicateness of the process. Their bickering had nearly set Filch on them on the way up to the Astronomy Tower, and it seemed that it would likewise nearly set him on them on the way down.

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm not entirely convinced of where I've put the chapter split here, but I'm going to commit to this version. Hopefully the narrative flow will fall into better place as the next couple chapters roll out. I realize things are moving a bit slowly as far as 'Animagus stuff' is concerned.**

**All of you should send a hearty thank you to user **_**Petrificus Somewhatus**_** who politely explained to me why the accent I gave Ginny in the previous chapter was…a mistake. He has spared all of your eyes many future stories of that less-than-intelligent character quirk. As such, the previous chapter has been updated to reflect this change in her dialogue.**

**As always, reviews are much appreciated. Try and guess what the Trio's forms will be. And no. None of them are foxes.**


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